


one stop shop

by titianiumkitten



Category: ATEEZ (Band), ITZY (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BTS cameos - Freeform, Baker!Seonghwa, I'm Bad At Tagging, Idiots in Love, M/M, OT8, art geek!hongjoong, bad boy!mingi, barely any beta we die like men, based on that one clip of seonghwa & that little girl, because i love them, dancer!Yunho, dancer!san, everybody immediately falls in love with red!joong, jongho is the only sane one, woosan crackheads, wooyoung is dumb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23191291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titianiumkitten/pseuds/titianiumkitten
Summary: mingi is starting over. seonghwa is walking through the park. yunho just settled into doing what he loves. and hongjoong? hongjoong just lost his daughter.
Relationships: Choi San/Jeong Yunho, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Kudos: 6





	one stop shop

**Author's Note:**

> hello lovelies, I'm back after my 497593748 year hiatus! as for my other fics, I'm sorry to say that I'll be abandoning them until I can refocus my abilities on them so in the meantime, enjoy this ate fic that's been floating around as an idea since last October! also, I have ko-fi now so if you wish, you can support me and my work a little extra (it's https://ko-fi.com/titianiumkitten ), especially with this quarantine happening in my country. my heart goes out to all of my readers who have family out of jobs or risking their lives to keep the economy going and life closer to the same!  
> I love you guys!

seonghwa’s liked to take walks since he was a little kid. his grandma would supervise him while he ran through the woods as a toddler, touching and grabbing everything that caught his eye. he started listening to the birds when he was older, refusing to get out of bed until he could hear the birds chirping in the big tree outside of their little, one story suburban home.

as a teenager, seonghwa used walks to escape: if he was stressed, he would jog up and down the paved sidewalks stretching down each side of the lane he lived on. if a party was too hot or too cramped or just too loud, he would walk home, basking in the darkness where he could be alone.

and it’s not at all like he was always alone, seonghwa knows he’s attractive and that fact was only proven throughout his late middle school and high school years by his...many, many girlfriends.

so, seonghwa took his keys, walked out of illusion bakery and cafe and started walking. he would much rather tire out his legs than figure out how to make up for the $500 that some son of a bitch had stolen from his little cafe. 

he enjoyed the bright blue summer sky, nearly cloudless and the slight wind blowing through his black hair. seonghwa hummed a tune he had heard on the radio under his breath as his feet carried him through the cute little park. the grounds mostly consisted of manicured green grass under tree shade, along with tiny white flowers lining the pathways. seonghwa remembers seeing the sign posted up next to the construction site when he was scouting for properties: “asa (ay-sah) park provided by an anonymous donor. coming soon.” 

seonghwa didn’t know any millionaires that lived nearby, even though this part of the city was fairly high end.

while he was lost in thought, he didn’t notice that the formerly gentle light of the sun had begun to beat down on him. seonghwa was pretty fair skinned, so he knew that a couple more minutes of this would leave him sitting in an aloe bath for a couple hours, which he did not exactly love because of the sheer work that he had to complete by the end of the day. 

therefore, park seonghwa, being the totally responsible twenty-seven year old he is, turns on his heel and begins the trip back.

without realizing it, he had passed by multiple little shops selling trinkets and ice pops for little kids. he’s good with kids, he just thinks it’s too much responsibility for little old him.

that’s also what his parents thought about the $45,000 tuition for the culinary school he wanted to go to at 18 and even now, it was the exact thought that ran through their heads when he proposed opening a cute little bakery in the upscale part of the inner city.

in both cases, he did it anyways.

seonghwa looked from side to side as he crossed the street back to get to his shop, where he could hopefully find a miracle that would get him out of the mountains of paperwork he had to finish.

\---

unsurprisingly, there was no miracle for park seonghwa.

he sat in his office, a tiny room that had a door disguised as wall in the far corner of the shop and served little purpose other than to hold papers he hadn’t dealt with. on top of that, his two employees were fooling around, serving as a perpetual break in his focus.

seonghwa put his black gel pen down. “can you guys stop bullying my plants?

yeosang flipped his brown hair out of his eyes, continuing to pet the little bonsai tree in the corner. “whatever, granny.”

“i am not a  _ granny _ , kang yeosang,” seonghwa huffed back, “and wooyoung, touch another recipe and i swear to  _ god _ you are so dead.”

being the brat that he is, wooyoung decides to toss the recipe onto seonghwa’s already overflowing desk. “what are you gonna do, hyung? hex me?”

nevermind. two of his tramp cousins in his beautiful, lavender uniforms with “illusion cafe” printed above the pockets.

seonghwa rubs his hands over his face. “fine. yeosang, did anyone respond to our ad for a security guard yet?”

“nope!”

“i hate you.”

“he knows,” wooyoung adds in.

“maybe the ad is just bad, hyung.” yeosang says, voice dripping with fake concern.

seonghwa waves his hand around, shooing them out, “get out or i’m firing you.”

both wooyoung and yeosang scurry out, finally remembering that their employment really depended on how their older cousin was feeling.

seonghwa sighs, picking up the paper he had been writing on before wooyoung and san came to bother him. he stares at the numbers he scribbled in black ink:

_ $496.77 stolen _

_ $325 in property damages _

_ $1300 in mortgage due in four days _

_???? taxes? _

_ that’s what…  _ seonghwa thinks,  _ like 2200? _

he sits back in his padded chair and thinks, staring at the ceiling.

when he sits up to stretch his arms out, seonghwa doesn’t know if minutes or hours have passed by. the long summer days are really getting to him. he’s still in a bit of a stupor when he opens his laptop to write to the insurance company about what he can do with all the debt he’s in.

seonghwa’s peaceful atmosphere only lasted for so long (he’s finding that this occurs more often than not) by a frantic wooyoung nearly busting down his door.

“hyung, there’s a little girl crying on the sidewalk!”

seonghwa freezes. “what?”

“there’s a little girl sitting on the sidewalk sobbing her eyes out, hyung.”

seonghwa blinks, holding eye contact for a few more seconds gets out of his chair and moves out of his office urgently, wooyoung trailing him. 

“where’s yeosang?”

“he says he’s bad with kids!!”

the little bell attached to the door as a rudimentary alarm rings as the glass paneled door swings open, the owner rushing through and swinging his head around, trying to find the girl.

a little further, a six or seven year old girl standing, ice pop in hand, bawling her eyes out. her clothes were wrinkled and her shoes muddy, her hair put up in one dark brown ponytail. seonghwa walks slowly up to her, as if he was approaching a dog he’d never met, so as not to scare her badly.

she looks him in the eyes and, well, stops crying.

“hi,” seonghwa says, using his baby voice. he sits in front of her as to be at eye level, the girl sniffles and bites her lip, looking a lot like she could burst out in tears again at anything.

“i’m seonghwa,” he continues as wooyoung and yeosang, who had actually climbed over the coffee counter to scurry after his coworker and boss, watched him. “uhm, what’s wrong?”

the girl grabs his shirt fabric and starts speaking quickly, ice pop melting in the heat. “m-my dad we-went to go get another ice pop and then i-i couldn’t f-find him-m and--” she starts crying again.

(seonghwa feels like crying too; he’s always had a soft spot for kids.)

“yeosang, go get two ice pops from the nearest cornerstore.”

yeosang rolls his eyes and groans. “hwa-hyunggg, it’s six blocks away.”

“i’ll give you the fifty dollar bill in the tip jar.”

his eyes (quite literally) lit up and he bolts down the street towards the cornerstore while woo whined about the unfairness of the deal.

“aw, sweetie, don’t cry,” seonghwa pats the girl on the head. he gestures towards his shop. “do you want to come inside? it’s kind of hot out here.”

she looks at him, eyes shiny from tears and lip wobbling, “appa says don’t go with strangers.”

_ shit.  _ seonghwa hadn’t even thought of that.  _ would her father think we kidnapped her? could he press charges? what if someone sees and calls the police? _

_ whatever,  _ he thinks to himself. _ he has good intentions. _

seonghwa smiles wide. “i’m not a stranger, i’m seonghwa!”

it works, clearly, “my name is yeji!” she responds, matching his smile.

the little girl (yeji, he means) passes him and wooyoung and pushes through the swinging door. the bell jingles, and seonghwa forgets his stress and his problems for at least some moments to focus on this angel faced, chocolate eyed girl.

\---

  
  


kim hongjoong comes back from the corner store with one strawberry ice pop to an empty blue picnic blanket. 

_ fuck _ . his daughter is missing.  _ whoever is on security rotation assigned to him is about to be jobless. _

he starts to jog around, yelling, “ji-ah! yeji? kim yeji!” he pulls up a picture of her and asks strangers if they’ve seen this girl. most shrug and say no, then give him useless wishes before walking away to wherever they were supposed to go in the first place.

panic starts to set in.  _ she couldn’t have gone far. what if she was abducted? taken?  _ more possibilities cross his mind.  _ what if she’s being held for ransom? _

hongjoong can already see the headline.  **_kim yeji, daughter of multi-millionaire kim hongjoong, kidnapped and held for $2m_ ** .

_ fuck. _

he finds himself at the edge of the park--HIS fucking park, although he donated it anonymously. hongjoong has never hated something he’s paid for or created more (except maybe that time he cut his hair really short and ugly in the tenth grade).

hongjoong crosses the street, swinging his head from side to side so he doesn’t get hit by an overpriced, shiny car with a random trust fund kid behind the wheel who popped one too many pills at what--he checks his watch--one in the afternoon.

after crossing the street, hongjoong ends up in front of a little bakery and coffee shop, one that looked just a little different from every other costly and mediocre coffee shop in his upscale neighborhood. the exterior of the building was painted a lavender purple, and the sign hung on nails in the wood over the glass door read “ _ illusion cafe + bakery _ ” in white, curling script.

he’s not gonna lie to himself, it’s a nice looking shop and he’s always been a sucker for pretty things.

he swings the glass door open and hears a little bell ring out. a chubby cheeked employee wearing a lavender purple apron scurried out of a back room and came up to the counter to greet him. “hi, welcome to illusion cafe! my name is wooyoung, how can i help you?”

wooyoung is blushing. he’s never seen someone who looks so much like an idol in his hyung’s shop before.

hongjoong snaps out of the trance he was in and pulls out his phone. “have you seen this girl?” he responds, with a little more bite than he originally intended to express.

the employee looks at the picture and blood starts draining from his face. wooyoung lifts a finger to point at the the image. “t-this girl?” he starts shaking.

hongjoong has no fucking clue what’s going on.  _ on top of losing his daughter, is he about to witness a medical emergency? _

“YEOSANG!” the barista yells, gripping his edge of the counter.

a second employee strolls out of the back room-- _ geez, how many more workers are hiding back there? _ \--looking considerably more annoyed than the first. 

“what?” he barks out, not noticing hongjoong in the slightest before his eyes travel to him and his bright red mop of hair. he switches tones immediately. “oh--hi, my name is yeosang! how can i help you?”

“uh...is your coworker okay? he looks like a ghost.”

yeosang kicks his cousin in the back of the leg, and wooyoung stands up straight. “yup, he’s fine.”

“um, alright,” hongjoong clears his throat and continues, “have you seen this girl recently? she’s my daughter.”

he peers at the picture and swears under his breath before yelling out, “SEONGHWA-YAH?”

another door opens and closes, this time in the far left corner of the store as all three men at the counter whip their heads to listen to the outraged voice.

“KANG YEOSANG, YOU ARE SO DEAD!”

a taller and clearly older man comes out of a well-camouflaged door with a girl with black hair on his hip and a death glare on his face.

yeji makes eye contact with him from across the little coffeeshop and her face lights up. 

_ “appa?” _

\---

seonghwa stops in his tracks for precisely four reasons.

reason 1: the little girl just recognized the man with the red hair as the father she couldn’t find and the main reason that she showed up outside his shop, weeping her eyes out.

reason 2: he’s going jail for attempted kidnapping, probably.

reason 3: that angelic, fiery red haired man with green colored contacts and brown eyeliner who’s shorter than him and who just broke into the most stunning smile he’s ever seen and is certainly an idol is  _ the _ most beautiful person park seonghwa has ever seen in his twenty-seven years on this earth.

reason 4:  _ seonghwa is and will forever be a very fucking gay male. _

“oh my god!” the man of his dreams drops his phone and keys and starts running towards seonghwa. he wisely chooses to put the girl down.

“appa!” yeji squeals, before the man slides to his knees and wraps his arms around her. from seonghwa’s point of view, he can’t tell if the man is crying or not. 

“don’t ever do that again, ji.” he looks his daughter in the eyes as tears gather in the corner of his vision. the man smiles, and yeji smiles back toothily.

the man stands up and walks towards seonghwa as his daughter trails after him, holding his hand. seonghwa looks down on the angelic looking man and he’s 90% sure that he’s blushing a little as the man of his dreams stares at him.

for a couple heartbeats of literally them just breathing and looking at each other (and seonghwa’s face turning redder and redder), he can’t read the cherry haired man. seonghwa genuinely cannot tell what he’s thinking.  _ is he gonna slap him across the face? _

“i’m kim hongjoong,” the man breathes, “thank you for returning my daughter.”

seonghwa is flustered from literally this man--he means hongjoong--talking to him and takes a step back to escape. he hits the wall. 

“i-you’re welcome, i guess,” he stutters, but he gets it out.

hongjoong smiles at him and winks with his right eye before spinning on his heel and walking towards the door. he looks to wooyoung and yeosang, who quite obviously watched the whole interaction from their position behind the counter. hongjoong snaps and points at them, and they jump to attention. “what’s this place called again?”

“illusion! illusion cafe, mr. kim!” wooyoung squeaks out an answer and feels his face heating up.

hongjoong whips his head around once more to make eye contact with seonghwa, whose heart is literally in shambles and smiles his award worthy smiles before pushing through the glass door.

the bell rings, and seonghwa sinks into a puddle on the floor.

“hyung…” wooyoung starts.

“do not.”

“he’s hot!”

“fuck you, i know.”

yeosang inspects his nails, pretending like he wasn’t about to throw his entire life away to see kim hongjoong smile. “you two are the worst.”

wooyoung keeps talking. “i bet he’s rich too! did you see his watch? his phone?” 

seonghwa wipes his face with his hands (but carefully, so as not to smudge his makeup), trying to get his face to stop flaming as red as the man’s-- _ hongjoong _ , he corrects himself again--hair.

wooyoung literally would not shut up. “in a perfect world, that kimjoong man would fall in love with me and then we’d get married on fiji and i’d be filthy rich and adopt 20 cats--”

“you’re creepy,” yeosang says, rolling his eyes. “so, hyung? he clearly flirted with you. what are you gonna do about the fact that you’re whipped for this man whose kid you temporarily abducted?”

“uh,” says seonghwa.

“sangie, give him some time. he hasn’t gotten any since like, college, being flirted with probably short circuited his brain.”

seonghwa’s brain cells are all so dead that he can’t even respond.

he can already tell that a gleaming smile and a pair of green colored-contacts are gonna keep seonghwa up, giggling and blushing like a schoolgirl all night.

\---

hongjoong loves to compose, to put on shows.

so that’s exactly what he did in the cafe.

a younger him would have been stunned to think that he could get all three men in the room to love him with a couple of smiles and a wink, but what can he say? people don’t recognize him that often, and he can now sniff out who’s straight and who’s not with a glance, so why not use that to his advantage.

hongjoong took yeji to a restaurant as something of an apology, but his daughter seems to be over it already. 

_ such is the way with children _ , he thinks.  _ he’s learned throughout his years of parenthood. _

after putting her to bed, hongjoong sneaks into his studio, the room adjacent to his own bedroom. if hongjoong is completely honest with himself, he spends more time in the studio than he does in his bed.

that’s only because in the studio, he can do what he does best: write and compose music.

hongjoong can’t stop thinking about the act he put on in that little shop earlier, so he writes.

he can’t stop thinking about the flustered, raven haired man who reminded him of another dark haired man he used to--

tears drip down his face and onto his notebook paper, but they don’t smear the writing. he’s cried enough times writing lyrics that he knew to invest in an absorbent notebook and waterproof pens.

_ where am I now? who are you? _

_ i've never felt this before _

_ this is paradise _

_ i don't know.  _

_ let's have a party all night long _

hongjoong writes and spins to the keyboard in his chair and arranges different colored blocks representing instruments all night, until his burning eyes drag themselves to the corner of the monitor screen displaying the time:  _ 2:58 am _ .

he plugs in his earphones and listens to the song.

he’s happy.

hongjoong saves and moves the song to the folder “ _ unreleased _ ”, right between the files  _ aurora _ and  _ star _ before relaxing, head resting on his arms, which were currently acting as a pillow. he can see the blue light of the computer reflecting on his glasses is the far corner of his vision, but he's a little more invested in sleeping at the moment. 

  
hongjoong feels himself drifting off and relaxes into it.  _ illusion cafe _ , he thinks to himself.  _ what an interesting little shop _ .


End file.
